Regret
by BelligerentDefinition
Summary: A one-shot that explores how Vriska might have felt as she died at the hands of Terezi.


She did not feel the blade until she saw it protruding from her chest, covered in her cerulean blood. She coughed and felt a warm liquid trickle down from the corner of her mouth as her chest was set aflame. A scream remained lodged in her throat, her eyes wide with fear and shock and pain. As easily as the blade had punctured her organs, swift and cold and unforgiving, she watched in horror as it slid back out and tore the flesh that remained intact anew. Her nerves screamed in agony, fingers paralyzed into defenseless claws. Not even a whimper escaped her tightly sealed lips as the blade completely retracted from her body. Strength fled her and she collapsed, falling face first into the hard exterior of the meteor she had hoped to save.

The confidence, the power that thrived within her bled out and collected into a cooling, blue pool around her body. Vriska could not move as her breath became shallow and meek, life fading with each painful intake and expansion. The darkness of the sky suddenly closed in on her as did a cold even a multitude of layers would not be able to warm.

The sound of footsteps filled Vriska's ears and her gaze, as blurry and fuzzy as it was becoming, turned to where she heard them originate. She saw red boots with blue blood splattered across them, and then looked up at her red tinted reflection in the glasses her sister wore. From what she could see she looked pathetic, nothing like she had thought herself to be; her crumpled, still form sprawled across the floor and drenched in its own swill was nothing short than wretched, weak, and disgraceful. The memories of broken bodies, of torn flesh, of bleeding wounds, of pleas of mercy filled her head and she once again understood how it felt to die, how it felt to be utterly powerless.

It did not compare to the time Aradia killed her. Oh no, that was far bloodier and motivated by hate and vengeance rather than necessity. She suffered not one single wound but multiple. And yet, her every breath now was more painful, more terrifying than anything she had experienced. Death crept into her lungs, its ultimate and final verdict all the more apparent to her. There was no turning back, no cure or miracle or trick that would save her now.

So this was how they died, looking up at their murderer as their breath slowed to a halt, as their mind gave way to oblivion and nothingness. Their eyes would see only a grin with none of its benevolence, stretched far too thin and far too wide. Malcontent and belligerence as sharp as fangs was all they saw, all that responded to their pleas and bartering before they found their heads rolling off their necks and their corpses kicked into a forgotten pile of the dead and the unwanted. They were nothing, and now she was nothing.

She deserved it, she knew. She deserved no pity and yet saw it in Terezi's face, in her black lips curdled as if she had tasted something bitter. Vriska had it coming the moment she fed her lusus her first spoils of war, had jammed Tavros's lance through his chest, and yet it did not make dying any easier. She had been ready to move on, to prove she was not the biggest bitch to have graced Alternia and to show everyone she was sorry. She wanted John to see she regretted her cruelty.

_John_.

Her gaze flicked towards her terminal and to the last message she had sent remained open on the screen, and were she not fading she would have immediately fretted at the blatant invitation of red she offered. But now, as she looked at that screen, her stomach lurched and a sadness she never knew she was capable of feeling perforated her mind. Vriska wanted to see John—just once—face to face. She wanted to laugh at his blunt, funny teeth and hornless head and non-gray skin. But, most of all, she wanted to see his smile, to hear his laughter, to marvel at the sound of his voice as he talked about his horrible movies and the handsome, muscular, long-haired human he liked so much. She simply wanted to be near him.

Vriska closed her eyes, so tired from thinking and wondering and hoping and yearning for things that would not come, not now, not ever. She shivered as the cold seeped into her very flesh her chest no longer aflame where Terezi had pierced her, the slit now a dull ache. Sleep sounded so good right now, a blessing she needed more than anything in the world. Slowly, slowly she allowed her exhaustion to take over, and as her mind drifted into darkness the last thought to bubble up was about how the warmth of a human hand would feel against hers.


End file.
